


An Example of Violence

by MrSpears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/MrSpears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You cannot do this properly at all, can you.” <br/>Ciel wraps his irritatingly tiny hands around Sebastian’s neck and pulls him down against the bed, locking his own heels against the frame of the bed.<br/> “I thought someone like a demon would have a more satisfactory approach to all of this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Example of Violence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrSpears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/gifts).



Ciel is seated in his office, looking hot, miserable and bored. Behind him, the windows are flung open in a vain attempt to coax even the slightest breeze into the hot, humid drawing room. Even the varnish on the desk is sticky, clinging to his sleeves and wrists, and crumpling the paper before him. 

The door opens.

He doesn’t bother looking up. “I want a parfait. Go get it.”

Sebastian, used to this particular demand, doesn’t bother acknowledging it straight away. Instead, he bows, choosing to ignore his lord’s obvious pout. “There has been a change in plans. Your tea will be have to be taken in the drawing room this afternoon. An unexpected guest has arrived and he seems quite interested in meeting you as quickly as possible.” 

Ciel curls his lip, tugging at the flat, sticky lay of his bangs.   
It was days like today that made him regret the eyepatch, an itchy, thick velvet contraption that always caught his eyelashes and rubbed a red patch in the side of his nose, no matter how often an apothecary gave him lanolin and lamb’s wool. “I already told you I don’t want to see anyone today. And I don’t want to work on the violin either. If it is going to be miserable and hot, I would prefer to be outside and at least working on something productive rather than sitting around. So go get me a parfait and tell our guest to go away.”

Sebastian pursed his lips, unwilling to argue but knowing better and giving in to a twelve year old’s temper tantrums. 

“With all due respect, my lord, it is Lord Elliot, the second son of Lord Geoffrey Abner, the steel magnate of-”

Ciel slammed his palms down on the desk; the paper doesn’t even rustle, humid and wrinkled. 

“I am tired of you arguing with me. I want tea, I want it here and I want something sweet. Stop stepping out of your station.”Sebastian bowed again, irritatingly untouched by the miserable, sticky heat, in his silk coat and wool waistcoat. 

“I apologize for my behavior. You are correct. I am afraid the heat has rendered me unprofessional, and will ensure my behavior is corrected before any further interaction. Would you like the Darjeeling today, my lord?”

Ciel pursed his lips, suspicious of the sudden change in behavior. As much as he hated to admit it, Sebastian did have his own personality and was prone to fits of temper from time to time, manifesting in the most polite, well-intentioned questioning that felt like the most vicious of interrogations. The last thing that Ciel wanted to do was reinforce Sebastian’s current bad behavior, but he couldn’t quite resist. 

“What on earth does he want with our company? I can hardly think of any partnership less suitable. Isn’t he the younger one? The elder was very boring.”

“I do not know, my lord. I am quite sure he would be happy to tell you. And I do believe he is the younger, yes.”

Ciel wrinkled his nose. The eyepatch rubbed against his nose painfully. It was probably going to start to blister again. “And you want me to see him.”

Sebastian is smiling, and nothing is more annoying. “You may always play with your guns before dinner, if you still wish to, my lord.”  
Ciel dropped his head to his fist and narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. Sweat prickled his uncovered eye.

“Is something wrong my lord?”

Sebastian frowns slightly at the change of his lord’s expression. “Is something wrong, my lord?”

“Come here.”

Sebastian steps closer, up to the other side of the desk, and bows, hand on his lapel. Ciel growls. “I said, get over here.”

Sebastian pauses for a fraction of a second, his movement a bit stiffer, and he steps around the desk and kneels down. Ciel looks down at him, legs crossed, boots itching at his knee from sweat. “Get up. Kiss me.”

Sebastian stares at him for a movement, but stands and slips his gloved hands around Ciel’s head, tilts his chin up and brushes his lips over Ciel’s, a tiny press of fangs on the bottom and a press of tongue. Ciel twists his head away and glares at Sebastian, a tiny, irritable god. “Do it properly or don’t do it at all.”   
This time, Sebastian smiles. 

“Yes, my lord.”

He grips his shoulders and leans forward, slipping his tongue into his mouth and slides it away, licking sweat away from Ciel’s cheekbones and biting him on his earlobe, hard enough to draw blood. Ciel tips his head back, allowing the touch and firmly maintaining his haughty expression, betrayed only by the imperceptible rise in breathing and pulse. 

Sebastian drops his mouth to Ciel’s ear and whispers, “Your guests are still in the drawing room, my lord. Perhaps we should hurry.” Fangs bite the shell of the boy’s ear and fingers drop to his pulse point, pressing down hard enough to numb the skin.   
Ciel draws away and slaps him free from his ear, impatient.   
“You never do this properly. Oh very well, let’s go see what they want and then I want you to take me to the shooting range like you promised. I refuse to play the violin.”

Sebastian steps back, his pale skin very slightly pinked from the hit. “Very good, my lord.”

Ciel stands up and pushes him away, grabbing his walking stick and sweeping out of the room, the breeze of his movement bringing a tingle of relief to his skin. Behind him, the soft footsteps stopped. 

“You’ve spilled some tea on your stockings, my lord. We must remove them immediately before departure.”

Ciel glanced down at his legs. There was a tiny brown spot on one leg, no doubt from this morning’s breakfast. A hand falls on his shoulder. 

Ciel shrugs him off firmly, and glares. “What?”

Sebastian answers, his voice velvet: “Your forgiveness, please, but I just noticed the ruin of your stocking. I simply cannot allow you to appear to guest in such a state. You absolutely must change.”

Ciel turns on his heel to look up at his butler, infuriated. “I must do nothing. And I did not ask for your opinion on the state of my clothing.”  
Sebastian meets his gaze, level. His eyes are empty. “If you prefer not to walk in this heat, I can carry you, of course.” 

“You are dangerously close to angering me.”

Sebastian shrugs. “They already think of you as a child, my lord. A stain on your stocking, improperly dressed...this will only further their opinion.” And then he sweeps his lord up, arm in the crook of his knees, his long fingers gripping the back of his small, starched shirt.

Ciel’s walking stick hits the wooden floor with a clatter and he’s unable to not squirm like an insulted child, reaching up and slapping his butler roundly. “I will have you put me down this instant!”

Sebastian’s elegantly shod foot slips under the cane and catches it, before whisking Ciel down the hall, still squirming. 

“Of course. As soon as we reach your room.” It appears that Ciel’s attempt at physical violence has made no impression on him. Ciel slams his fists into the iron strong shoulders, his sweaty hair sticking to his face and buttons untangling, feeling annoyingly small. The great wooden door swings open and Ciel is dumped on the bed and the cane is laid across his lap. His butler swishes to the wardrobe, retrieving a new pair of stockings before kneeling to slide the old ones away, gentle with the expensive shoes.   
Ciel kicks him sharply in the sternum, a foot on his shoulder and pushing him back, glaring down at him. “You are out of line.”

For a split second, cranberry eyes turn red. 

Ciel refuses to back down, and stands up again, ignoring his bare foot and brushes past his demon. 

Behind him, a whisper. “I assume you wish to correct me.”

Ciel sneers, refusing to look at him. “I am not going to correct something by giving you something you obviously desire.” He adjusts his cuffs primly. 

Sebastian’s hand lands on the small of his back, and he whispers, “Sit.” 

“Don’t you dare make me order you.”

“I was out of line,” his demon whispers. He touches his lapel again, the very picture of apology. “I only wish you to make the best impression upon your guests.”  
Ciel studies him for a moment, and then seats himself on the bed again and offers his foot back to his butler, small in the grown hands. Sebastian smiles, his lips barely lifting, and kneels down again, slipping the other shoe free and rolls the other stocking down and discards it, pulling the new silk up and clipping the velvet garters. Ciel glares out his open window, his face flushed and pretending to be uninterested. 

Finally the shoes are back on and his butler stands, stepping back. “Thank you, my lord. I am far more confident in the state of your appearance.” 

Ciel turns back and studies him. “You are, of course, very kind. You may kiss me again.”

Sebastian hovers closer. “Your guests are waiting.” His lips are slightly parted. Hungry.   
Ciel sniffs. 

“I don’t care. He’s the son of some nobody and no doubt simply wants my money. He can wait.” 

Sebastian’s brow furrows, a delicate line in his white skin. “Yes, my lord. He wants your money, but your head for business is leaving you.”

Ciel snarls at him. “I gave you permission to kiss me.”

Sebastian leans forward and brushes his lips over the young earl’s.. “Yes, my lord. You did.” He kisses him again, this time more firmly. As cool as his demeanor remains, his mouth is far more demanding. “You cannot do this properly at all, can you.” Ciel wraps his irritatingly tiny hands around Sebastian’s neck and pulls him down against the bed, locking his own heels against the frame of the bed. “I thought someone like a demon would have a more satisfactory approach to all of this.” 

“Do you imply I am prudish?” Sebastian pretends to be hurt. He pulls away only long enough to slip off his jacket and allow it fall uselessly from his fingertips, landing on the bed and sliding to the ground. He then pinches the edges of the stockings in his fingers and leans over to kiss the lord’s knee. “I am interested only in being exemplary upon your behalf.” 

He tears the stockings down Ciel’s legs, ripping them free from garter clips. The delicate material slides easily over soft skin, and stockings and shoes end up on the floor in a single swift motion. “It’s a shame.” the demon purrs. “I quite liked these stockings.”

Ciel pouts, having learned the art of appearing imperious while flat on his back and legs spread. “Then you shouldn’t have ruined them, now should you?”

Sebastian shrugs. “Perhaps, my lord.” 

The small jacket comes next, then the neat, threaded buttons. They pop off without resistance, spinning when they hit the polished tiled floor.Sebastian grips Ciel by the hips and presses his hands between childish legs, shorts remaining on, and kisses up a white calf. He kisses fading bruises and the old marks of fangs, left over the months and months past.   
Ciel stretches his arms above his head, feeling his bones stretch luxuriously, rolling his hips lazily, quite content to be worshiped. Idly he tugs the string to his patch away, tossing it to the floor. 

Satin gloved hands slide under his pants, then up to tug his waistband around, pushing them away. Sebastian kisses the the soft white cup of his hips and the flat, childish stomach; lips pressing against the soft, fine trail of nearly invisible hair developing over his stomach and up to his navel. Then he drifts further down to slide his tongue over, lapping over the tiny erection and pressing his lips to the small, smooth head. 

Ciel shudders deliciously, with an undignified gasp. “Take your gloves off. I’m tired of them always being on no matter what you do.” 

Sebastian smiles places his fingers against his lips. Biting the very tip of his middle finger, the right hand glove slides away before his naked hand drops to Ciel’s cool side, his skin stone cold to the touch as trimmed, but formidable nails drag over Ciel’s inner thigh, trailing angry red marks in their wake. 

Ciel growls at him, eternally frustrated by his care. “Harder.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

Hands slide up to his waist and roughly flips him over. The second glove comes off and is tossed away, lost somewhere to the sheets and blankets. His blackened nails dig into Ciel’s flesh, starting at the shoulder and dragging down his back, drawing blood at the small of it, stopping just at the curve of his ass, sparing it the marks.   
Ciel arches into the bed with a happy sigh, dragging himself up to brace his knees against the edge of the mattress. He curls backwards into the nails and leans backwards into Sebastian’s shoulder, grabbing the black sheen of his butler’s hair and twists his head around to kiss him, vindictive and toxic. 

Against his mouth, Sebastian asks, “Feeling the cane today, my lord? Or are you in the mood for-?”

His hand reaches up and grips Ciel’s throat, hard enough to momentarily stop his breath.. 

“I am tired of telling you what to do. I feel like being fucked by a demon, not a man. I feel like fucking hell. I feel like being ripped in half and I feel like screaming. Is that so hard for you to understand?”

The grip on his throat tightens, but the demon purrs. “We shall have to start gently, of course.” 

Ciel’s voice cracks embarrassingly. “Undress. I am tired of waiting.” 

“I thought my lord was tired of telling me what to do.” With a rustle, trousers were pulled away, and Ciel felt an erection pressed against the small of his back. “Perhaps I do not wish to undress.”

“I own you. Don’t presume.” He turns around on the bed, dropping down and sliding his lips around Sebastian’s erection, not in the mood to drag the foreplay out. 

Fingers drag through his hair, gripping him tightly. Cranberry eyes close. “Of course you do, my lord.” 

The boy sucks him exactly as long as he wants to, impatient, then pulls free and flings himself back onto the fluffy, perfectly white sheets. “Come here.”

The demon lowers himself, crawling over the edge of the bed and hovers above Ciel, muscles tense, threatening. Ciel nestles deeply into the into the down, his purple eye flashing. “You may proceed.” 

He kisses Ciel’s navel, but then lifts up his hips, lazily slipping a finger into him, comfortable with the ease of long practice. He stays there for a while, twisting one or two fingers in and out, allowing the boy to accept it and relax around him, wincing if it was too hard, before he gently presses himself into the boy, slowly. Ciel arches off the bed, clenching his teeth and screwing up his eyes, hands gripping uselessly at the sheets, his knuckles red and angry. 

Sebastian pauses carefully, touching Ciel’s thigh. “Do you require me to stop? It was very painful now.” His voice is an almost mocking coo, brushing aside dusky hair and kissing the boy’s throat. “You ought to relax.”

Ciel grunts, trying to hide how painful it is. “I wish you would stop questioning me. You are so tiring. I expect-I expect better behavior from the Phantomhive butler.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Gently, he rocks back and forth, firmly holding Ciel’s hips in place, drawing blood with his fingernails. Ciel growls, out of patience, and drags himself deeper, forcing his butler deeper and gasping at the instant burst of pain. 

Surprised, Sebastian holds him tighter and just pushes entirely, faster, but no longer protesting and uncaring of the pain caused. Blood drains down Ciel’s hips, under his fingertips and dotting the sheets below them. 

Ciel doesn’t even bother with dignity-he lets out a sharp scream of pain, dropping his head back, feeling as if he is breaking in half entirely, grasping uselessly at the bed, each breath a strain, his legs curling back onto themselves. 

“Would you like me to finish, my lord?”

Ciel doesn’t bother to answer, too far gone to speak, eyes closed, face agony, little hips jerking to match the rhythm and skin sheening in sweat.   
The demon, hovering over him, rips into him one last time before releasing. He stays, for a long moment, unmoving, staring down at the little boy below him, watching tears slide down his cheeks as he slowly relaxes from the pain. He is trembling violently. 

His lovely butler slips his fangs through gossamer skin and against the trembling pulse before sliding free altogether. He slides his hand down a short, flat stomach and finds   
the boy desperate beneath him. 

At the sudden, hard grip, Ciel screams again, legs lifting him off the bed entirely. It takes a mere two strokes before he releases, limp and shaking, over-stimulated, managing only a soft, prepubescent shimmer, clear and sticky to the touch.   
His butler slides down on the bed next to him, watching the thin chest rise and fall rapidly. 

“I hope I lived up to your expectations, my lord.”

Ciel sniffs hard, legs shaking. 

Sebastian picks up his gloves. Sliding them back on, he looks down in disapproval. 

“There is blood on the sheets.”

**Author's Note:**

> A conversation between myself and MrSpears. A good old fashioned explicit rating. Check out his work-there's more where this is coming from.


End file.
